


stumbled into your love

by baeconandeggs, orphan_account



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe -- Journalism, M/M, Mention of blood, Minor Character Death, Strangers to Lovers, background Oh Sehun/Kim Jongin, slight altercation/violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 02:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14728433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Trying to land a fancy promotion while you're exposing a corrupt chaebol is a lot harder than you think, Baekhyun reasons. Even harder when he's cute and sweet and suspiciously innocent.





	stumbled into your love

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #:** BAE265  
>  **Disclaimer: baeconandeggs/the mods is/are not the author/s of this story. Authors will be credited and tagged after reveals.** The celebrities' names/images are merely borrowed and do not represent who the celebrities are in real life. No offense is intended towards them, their families or friends. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this fictional work. No copyright infringement is intended.
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> **Author's Note: hello, thank you first and foremost to the mods for being so patient. secondly, i sincerely hope the readers and recipient of this fic can enjoy my work. i am not sure if this is what you wanted but i tried my best as a first-time writer in bae + this being my first proper fic in the fandom. anyway, please be kind and leave tons of feedback! thank you.**

**present day.**

Baekhyun peers over the large crate that’s nailed shut at the edges and has a pale orange tarp lain across it to conceal it, cardboard boxes littered around its perimeter in the old warehouse. His nails dig into the material, the pads of his fingers feeling the roughness and the slight film of dust clinging to his tips when he notices the two men in front of him exchange a wide burgundy colored briefcase. They aren’t aware of his presence and he’d certainly like to keep it that way, but the heavy breathing next to him that’s on par to a dog panting is quite distracting -- not to mention a dead giveaway.

“Could you breathe a little quieter?” Baekhyun seethes through gritted teeth as he pops his head back up, just barely over the edge to keep look out, “we’re gonna get caught.”

Chanyeol shuffles closer. It’s awkward cause he’s squatting and pretty much hyperventilating, as he moves next to Baekhyun looking like a little duck separated from his flock, “I’m anxious.”

There’s a pang of guilt when he watches the fear-stricken look on Chanyeol’s face, but it quickly dissipates when he remembers why they’re here in the first place, and how the snobby kid is the reason that he’s going to either get shot and end up on the front story of KBS or he’s going to have his body mauled and thrown into the river at the dock where this warehouse is situated. He rather die a glorified martyr on TV though -- if he _has_ to choose.

“Listen,” Baekhyun whispers, ducking down so he’s eye-level to the other boy, “we’re here because you refused to believe me and now you’re pretending it’s the first time you’ve seen your right-hand man walking around with a 6ft bodyguard with a pistol tucked into his holster as they make drug deals?

“My family runs hospitable hotels! Not a thug business you’re hell-bent on, I don’t know what Henry does in his private times,” Chanyeol replies, his cheeks are flush red and his words are choppy due to his quick breathing. “I don’t know anything. I just _assumed_ the CEO position cause my dad got a heart attack.”

“Shouldn’t have indulged in your rich, refined delicacies while the rest of common folks starve,” Baekhyun mumbles still wary of the three men exchanging terse words. There is this electric tension in the air as if something could go wrong any second. The shortest man in his tweed coat and slicked back hair looks like your average office worker, but the sinister smile that stretches across his face once he opens the suitcase sends a shiver down Baekhyun’s spine.

“Mr. Lau, I assume I don’t have to count the amount as you’ve brought the suggested sum?” the short man begins, the suitcase is sitting on one of the other tarp-covered crates and from where Baekhyun is hiding he can see the stacks of bills neatly pressed into the container. He rolls his eyes.

“You rich people really carry around wads of cash while I can’t even fucking meet the rent deadline,” he complains to no one but himself, but Chanyeol being Chanyeol has to pipe in.

It’s so soft that Baekhyun can’t tell if he’s being mocked, or if there is a genuine underlying concern there, “you’re having trouble paying rent?”

Baekhyun turns around to glare, “I don’t need pity from the damn _prince_.”

Chanyeol has the audacity to furrow his eyebrows, the look of pure offense, “I’m not a prince! I was just born rich how is any of this my fa-”

He doesn’t get to finish his rant because a couple of feet away from them the tension has crackled to pure aggression when they hear the short man with a northern accent cuss in hard vowels, “Lau, what is this? We had a deal.”

Henry is dressed in a crisp magenta suit with a deep brown button up, and shimmery gold cufflinks that stand out dramatically against the tear-and-wear of the grimy old warehouse. He’s _pristine_ and so very smug about it. The large windows lining the top of the building are pouring in a wealth of sunlight and despite the closed doors the place is heavily illuminated, but the wicked smile on Henry’s face makes everything seem so sinister.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Kim,” his voice is smooth, if not a touch too high for a grown man, as he undoes his sleeves, “ _you_ made the deal. I’m simply here to collect.”

“You’re messing with the wrong group, kid,” the threats are empty even to Baekhyun’s ears, but it doesn’t deter the man from continuing, “we’ll pull our supply and cancel all the shipment. What will you do when you don’t get all the goods are sent back?”

“Well, that wouldn’t happen now would it?” Henry bounces a bit on his feet.

“Why so? I’ll tell my men to stop the transaction right this second. I’m one call away,” he barely finishes the last words before there is a resounding sound in the metal-clad building they’re in. The walls echoing the gunshot till it mutes down to a subtle ringing and tangible silence. Baekhyun sees red. It pools around the fallen body of the short middle-aged man, his skull meeting the dirty surface with a loud thud, in rivulets over the slate gray cement. There is a wave of panic mixed with trepidation under his skin but he’s barely able to react because next to him Chanyeol chokes out a sob. The noise wouldn’t be palpable if it weren’t for the blanket of quiet around them but it’s enough to alert the perpetrators.

“Who’s there?” Henry speaks up, his cool suave demeanor immediately replaced by fear - it’s different from the shock-stricken apprehension running through his veins or the plain feeling of being terrified to lose one’s life as Chanyeol looked, his hand gripping onto Baekhyun’s bicep, no it’s different because it’s cautious and curious and wary of being _caught_. It’s edged with the will to do anything to protect his secret. The funny thing is Henry didn’t pull the trigger instead it was his henchman standing tall and wide and brave, but it’s the motive that makes it all the riskier for him.

The man dressed to the nines rounds the corner of one of the larger containers, the open one that smells like burnt coal, and moves towards the back where Baekhyun and Chanyeol are hiding. There are about a good few feet between them and since Baekhyun values his life he thinks quickly of an escape plan or a _i don’t intend on dying here cause of some dumb rich kid plan_.

“Shit,” he breathes, and glances at Chanyeol who might throw up any second, so bracing himself he gets on his knees and crawls towards the cardboard boxes that are set up between two crates with a tarp hanging over them, there is barely any space, but if they’re careful they can hide away. He pulls Chanyeol by the wrist the boy following without struggle, pin-drop quiet, and pushes him into the little alcove of boxes and goes in after him. They fit together messily with Chanyeol’s back pressed against his chest and Baekhyun’s lightly grazing the material of the dark tarpaulin. His knees are bent and hitched up with feet pushed into the orifice of one of the open boxes while Chanyeol's are pulled to his chest, and its cramped cause the other boy is fucking huge and Baekhyun didn’t sign up for this. He just wanted a story. _A promotion_.

The aperture in the ceiling casts the light in slants but the way the boxes are set up it makes the material shade over them, further hiding them away; or, so he hopes. That’s when he hears the incoming footsteps, careful as they tread closer to them, and of course, Chanyeol shivers into a soft whimper. Baekhyun’s faster though, clamping a hand over his mouth, swallowing all the broken sounds, closing his own eyes and counting his breath. Hot tears trickle down on the back of his hand alarming him to pull the boy closer to his chest, closing his own eyes and counting down his breaths.

The growing anticipation settles when the sound of footsteps recedes, and he hears a curt, “must be an animal, boss.”

“Must be,” Henry’s voice sounds muffled hidden away under a mass of boxes, and it’s far, but he could be close -- closer than Baekhyun would like - so he stays as still as possible. Each passing second is torturous especially with the way his hand feels, all moist and damp from the dribble of tears. They wait patiently until the door clanks with the sound of being closed, and even then, they don’t dare move, Baekhyun taking extra cautionary measures to be sure that it isn’t a trap to lure them.

Maybe an hour, or a little under, later there is a puff of breath against his palm which makes him move his hand away, Chanyeol’s head still tucked under his chin and his body squashed and leaning against his chest. The boy murmurs out a _thank you_.

Sliding out first he peeks under the tarp to coast the premise, the area clear of anyone aside from them, and then crawls back and gets out of the little cave. The warehouse is empty and from the looks of it, the sun is starting to set outside, sighing he ducks down offering a hand to Chanyeol who takes it easily. He gets out and stands on his two feet, cheeks blotchy and tear-stained, the color pink spattered over his skin and his fringe matted over his forehead due to the sweat.

Rounding the corner of the large container they see it. The lifeless corpse flooded under the crimson red bleeding from his wounded skull and gunshot. He’s a great fanatic of true crimes, grew up reading Agatha Christie novels and listening to old radio broadcasts of murders, serial killers, and theft. He’d heard on one of his podcasts that if the head is injured it profusely bleeds until it’s drained of all its content. It’s like the tap is broken loose and you can’t stop it. No one can. The whole situation is jarring, and he’s shocked and disturbed but he’s a reporter he’s seen men and women – family members at times – scuffle over trivial things such as money, power, but experiencing it first hand is entirely different.

It’s ten times worse when you’re a spoiled rich kid. Kind of sheltered to the harsh reality of the world. Privilege allows for innocence. Or as Baekhyun believes ignorance.

Crouching down he pulls out a handkerchief from the pocket of his jean jacket and reaches over. Chanyeol speaks, then, “what are you doing?”

Carefully Baekhyun uses the soft cotton cloth to close the man’s eyes and stands up. He deserved the humanity to at least not be left open, defenseless, like this.

Baekhyun starts walking first towards the main door and he expects Chanyeol to follow, the door opening with the familiar screech as it did earlier this morning when he found himself snooping around the abandoned building looking for clues, or a scoop, or anything that would help him write his proposal piece about the city’s most corrupt estate holders. He’d expected scandals, or laundry money, or even drugs, but no one fucking told him he’d be blindsided by a murder.

Once they’re outside, him nearing his Vespa, he says, “I’m going home”

That’s the right thing to do. That’s what he should do. He can call the cops. But what will they say? The man killed is a drug lord infamous amongst the underworld so it’s not like the police care about his carcass, sooner than later they’ll find his body, or his henchmen will. Either, or, he’s stuck with the knowledge someone got shot right in front of him.

He’s ready to mount his scooter when he feels a hand grip on the fabric of his jacket, turning around to find Chanyeol who mumbles, voice chipped, “can I come with you?”

_no, no, you got me in this in the first place. But the sliver of emotions, the budding feelings betray him._

From the slacked shoulder to his puffy eyes the boy is pitiful, and that lurches at his heart more than seeing the body of a dead criminal.

Saying _fine_ is a lot easier than a couple of months ago when this whole mess started. The reason why he’d ended up in a shoddy warehouse with a spoiled brat and a power-thirsty vice president of a huge hospitality conglomerate.

**six months ago.**

The bold red letters outside of ‘Kimichi Mart’ stare back at him like a taunting reminder when Sehun swings an arm around his shoulder, pinching his neck. Baekhyun swats at his hand with a yelp, and Sehun replies, “staring at the sign won’t make Mrs. Lee any less bankrupt.”

Baekhyun glares at him with narrowed eyes, “she’s _not_ bankrupt she’s being driven out of her own property because those blood-sucking corporate assholes want to tear down this side of Insadong to build another luxury hotel.”

“Sad cause Mrs. Lee gave freeloaders like you discounted groceries, now what are you going to do?” Sehun jests, fully aware he’s in the same damn boat as Baekhyun considering they’re roommates who share a shitty two-bedroom loft in the same district of Seoul. Two streets down from the edge of Insadong where they built those little apartments styled rooms for college students or those of the workforce that are slaving away making the bare minimum at their internship or their entry-level jobs. Baekhyun and Sehun are somewhere in the middle with being lucky enough to land a job at KBS, one of the biggest broadcasting stations, but still doing coffee runs for their tyrant of a team leader.

Disgruntled Baekhyun pushes open the glass door with the little bell chime going off over him, alerting the owners of his arrival, and makes a beeline towards the frozen foods aisle. He doesn't even bother grabbing a trolley or a handbasket just stocks up on frozen pizza, frozen bulgogi, and a large container of kimchi. Sehun joins him in the candy aisle where he’s scurrying to find the sour jelly beans he’d found last week. Picking them out he places them on top of the boxes and Sehun piles on his Greek lite yogurts along with three packets of ramen, too. Baekhyun doesn’t understand the point of eating instant ramen and expensive but supposedly ‘healthy’ dairy. according to Sehun, _“it tricks the body, byun. Makes it think you’re eating all these healthy nutrients, but then also scarfing down the perfect amount of junk food.”_

Yeah, perfect if it means copious amounts of sodium and high blood pressure, but maybe Sehun’s early demise will qualify him for those city grants that waive your rent for a year or somewhat. They hobble over to the cashier, what might be their last time, when the old lady they love and have grown up around smiles at them, “you boys are going to be okay, yeah?”

Baekhyun swears he’s going to take a swing at the corporate bastard that’s tearing down this side of town, but replies humbly, “of course! Our self-preservation skills are on par to a gazelle. Don’t worry about us.”

“Aren’t gazelle easy preys to lions?” Sehun thinks out aloud and Baekhyun kicks him in the shin continuing, “anyway, I hope you’re doing okay? It must be hard letting go of your place.”

The old lady gives a resigned smile, one that doesn’t reach her eyes as it usually does when Baekhyun is punch drunk on a Thursday evening treading in for a box of popsicles and flirting with her to no end, and says, “they gave us a hefty sum. It’s good. They say it's meant to polish the neighborhood? Make it look more like Myeong-dong.”

“Millennials and their fucking gentrification,” Baekhyun mutters under his breath (he ignores Sehun grand input of, “wait aren’t we millennial's too?”), but the lady continues, “it’s good. My husband and I can finally retire and get a little place in Busan like we’ve always wanted. But.”

“But?” Sehun asks.

“Seoul is where we grew up you know? We don’t have kids but young one’s like you kept us afloat, so did the busy life and the new people who’d stumble in every now and then. It’s home.”

Baekhyun glowers at the ‘ _closing soon_ ’ sign one last time before walking into the tight streets with Sehun. It’s a Saturday morning and they still have a whole day ahead of them. Sehun’s talking about some pretty boy he met at the shopping district when he visited with Jongdae and Baekhyun can’t be arsed to care right now cause all he can think about is Mrs. Lee and her store. They’re walking past a news stall when he spots the newspaper. The headline is about some political talks between North Korea and South Korea and how possible coalition is beyond likely, but the budding tensions are what are making the Chinese agency and the Americans nervous.

But it isn’t the globally escalating friction that catches his eyes, but instead, it’s the smaller headline that takes the other ¼ of the page about the Park Corporation building a new luxury hotel in the heart of the City’s Cultural district. He snatches the paper off the stand and reads through the glorified detail of how it’s supposed to enrich that part of the city with a new perspective and bring in a lot more capital for local vendors and boost the antique sales. It’s appalling at how easy it is to paint the whole venture into a positive light when a whole sector is being driven out and the traffic it will create despite fully knowing the streets on this side of town are tight and it’s mostly only appropriate for foot traffic and not to be crowded by cars. On top of that, although it will attract foreigners, it can do more harm than good considering foreigners have the habit of vandalizing and extorting and especially in a place where it’s too dense to call a divide and provide proper security. This market is for thrift shoppers, and for collectors, and to appreciate lost art not to gloss it up to serve to those who have no inherent value of culture.

Baekhyun’s frown deepens as he reads how long the construction will be and how it will probably obstruct the open roads and that makes him wonder how it’ll be detrimental to the small shop owners. How the fuck are people supposed to pass through and buy things when there is a fucking bulldozer whacking away? A short giggle draws him out of his thoughts as he looks over his shoulder to see Sehun glossing through a magazine, and peers over his shoulder to see a young guy -- around his age -- sitting on one of those pea green ottomans with long legs stretched before him and leaning back on his arm with a smile on his face.

Sehun hoots, “who knew the heir of Park’s corporation was such a stud?”

Baekhyun grimaces waving the paper he was holding in Sehun’s face, “a monster Sehun! They’re tearing our town apart!”

“Aren’t you being a little too dramatic over groceries?” Sehun raises a brow but not sparing Baekhyun another glance. He keeps flipping through the magazine, “it’s not like _he_ had anything to do with it. You know how big companies work with most decisions being made by the board members and whatnot.”

“That doesn't absolve the rich bastards who own the entire thing of blame? If it weren’t for their corrupt goals the board wouldn’t exactly go through with the plan to mutilate such a historic part of town.”

“Mutilate is such a strong word,” Sehun puts the magazine back and plucks the paper from Baekhyun’s hand placing it from where he picked it up. Curling a hand around his wrist they drift towards the mass of people walking down the street, “I think in the long run it could prove to be beneficial. As long as the temporary costs are compensated.”

“Who’s going to look after the little guy though? They can pay off the store owners, but what when the money runs out and these streets are littered with _foreigners_ and the young _dashing_ _chaebol_ has removed every antiquated bit of this town?

“So, you _do_ think he’s hot?

“You’re insufferable,” Baekhyun rolls his eyes walking past Sehun towards their apartment complex.

Baekhyun tries to put it behind him and move on with his life but come Monday morning he’s being assigned to investigate the stray cat issue in upper Gangnam by his team captain and he’s had enough. He’s a respectable journalist, a reporter who graduated with the highest of honors, and he won’t succumb to doing an interns job. For Christ’s sake, he still brings the _Overlord_ his coffee. Right, that’s what they call him.

Do Kyungsoo: captain of the special affairs unit.

They’re meant to report the hot buzz from celebrity scandals to corrupt politicians to power-hungry business owners. They’re one of the most qualified research teams and their junior lead is actually one of his best friends, Kim Jongdae, but it’s the nutcracker of a Captain that he can’t seem to woo with his saccharine talk and unparalleled work ethic. But, alas, he’s still the fucking coffee boy. Sehun who started with him even gets a B List celebrity story to report meanwhile he’s stuck with cats. Stupid nowhere to go cats.

“But Cap can’t I work on the Seohyun case with Sehun or even the Han River cleaning project launched due to the rising tensions?” Baekhyun pleads, and Kyungsoo doesn’t even entertain him. Keeps typing away on his computer.

“I promise you’ll get the best ratings, like, people like me,” Baekhyun gestures to himself, and sure to others he might come off as a narcissistic asshole, but the fact of the day is that people _do_ like him, charming people is his forte.

“Listen, Baekhyun, when I deem fit for you to work on another report I’ll let you know? But for now, how about you work on cases that are open and no one has bothered to look into them.”

“But there is a reason no one is picking them,” he whines, hands now splayed on the desk, “Kyungsoo people don’t care about fucking cats they care about why the Parks have decided to uproot a whole sector of Insadong and _how_ their CEO has decided to step-down after a heart attack.”

That catches his attention, Kyungsoo peering up at him, “How do you know he’s stepping down?”

“Deductive skills,” Baekhyun grins.

Kyungsoo snorts, “You’ve been reading too many tabloids. That man is a workaholic. I interviewed him a couple years back and there is no chance in hell he’ll step-down cause of one _false_ scare.”

“Not unless his son is back in the country to take over the reins,” Baekhyun reasons.

“Too many tabloids, Byun,” Kyungsoo repeats, but he’s amused. Leaning back, he folds his hands behind his head, “Hrm, you really think the kid will take over?”

“He did an issue with W Korea talking about getting his MBA,” Baekhyun slides into the chair, “I think something is up.”

“So, you _too_ think the heart attack is fake?”

Baekhyun grins, raising a brow, “Now who’s been reading too many tabloids.”

Baekhyun exits the office with a hesitant approval and one stern warning that if he can’t gather any information by the end of the month he’s off the case and they're chalking it all up to pure coincidence. Passing by Sehun’s cubicle and he seats himself at the edge of his desk, “he gave me a nod.”

“Impressive,” Sehun swivels in his chair, “So, what’s the dirt?”

“Well, I was hoping you could help,” Baekhyun leans forward and picks up the horrible bitter latte Sehun has acquired a taste for and takes a sip out of it. ‘What do you know about the Park kids?”

“The girl is an interior designer, quite popular too, heard she’s friends with all the trendy idols,” Sehun hums and clicks his mouse to pull up a profile window of Park Yoora. She’s pretty, soft features that make her look friendly, and then he clicks the brothers’. Baekhyun swears they have the same face, but the boy has something _else_. He’s alluring. Where the sister is warm, familiar face of comfort, the boy is bright, open, and --

“Stop drooling,” Sehun snickers and Baekhyun whacks him on the shoulder. He continues, “He’s two years junior of us and has just finished his MBA from the States. Wasn’t he due back until next year? Heard he had an internship lined with Goldman & Sachs, but with all the mess with his Dad he flew in right after graduation.”

“Interesting,” he ponders, eyes still stuck on the picture of the boy. He’s out of the casual blazer as he’d been wearing in the magazine instead he’s in a winter coat and his hair are brushed to the side, and he’s smiling. He’s much more tangible this way.

“Another thing,” Sehun notes bringing up another profile, “They have a _supposed_ adopted son. He’s older. They didn’t grow up together or anything but once his father, a close family friend of the Park’s passed away, Chanyeol’s dad kind of took him under his tutelage. His name is -”

“Henry Lau,” Baekhyun reads.

\--

A quick google search wasn't enough to garner his interest in the Park's. On the surface, they come off as your staple entrepreneurial family who started out with a self-made man story and went on to expand their business venture from a local two floor Oceanside resort at the coast of Busan to Seoul based gaudy five-star hotels with a fixed section in every socialite read magazine.

But it seemed too pretty of a picture and he was determined to find the grimy parts of this well-oiled machine if it wasn't the last thing he did. Especially seeing as they'd recently announced the stepping down of the of the current CEO. Maybe it was a family feud; battle of the sexes between the two heirs -- they had an older daughter and a younger son who coincidentally had just graduated from Harvard Business. The only outstanding factor though was the step-son who too was in the picture with his imperative position as the vice president. Just second in command to the now retired CEO.

In pictures, the Parks looked amiable, harmless in the pleasant sort of way -- like your neighbors who you’ve been accustomed to for years. There still was something amiss especially seeing their rumored merger with a corporate Chinese resort chain; another speculation suggested they'd filed bankruptcy in 2014. No financial or legal evidence suggests to it though from what he's gathered.

Baekhyun groans, rubbing his temples as he stares at the screen for the 12th hour. He's been here since morning and has ingested enough caffeine and granola bars to see doubles of every rotational figure and chart he's gone thru. Hesitantly he rifles through the hodge-podge of celebrity magazines and tabloids Sehun had brought on over before clocking out. In his suggestion, the best way to unearth dirt on the Parks is to take a page out of the hyper-sensationalized media’s books. After all, they excelled in researching into the privy details of the lives of the rich.

Flicking thru one of the vogue publications he comes across an interview of the young heir to the park estate. He’s pictured differently than the neat business casual from his W Korea shot, but instead, he’s wearing a worn-in hoodie with sleeves that extend to his palms with his bangs flopping over his forehead – the interview is short and old dating back to 2013 and only a page long.

The title read _‘park chanyeol’s insight; the oddity amongst a family of corporate moguls’_ and it’s just a 19-year-old citing how his early passions drifted afar from his father’s hope and dreams for him. Just like your average teen he wanted to dabble in music, be a rockstar, or so. He talks about his favorite albums and his musical inspirations, of how his favorite present to date was the cherry burst Gibson his mother gifted him on his 14 th birthday. The way he talks is childish, almost callous in the sense he’s unmoored by the constraints of the world, by the expectations one has.

Before he knows it Baekhyun is reading the journalists’ sign-off and is left with more questions than answers.

Sighing he draws back into his chair closing his eyes when the phone rings on his desk, he reaches out and places it to his ear, “still at the office? I warmed up the leftovers, hyung.”

“I think I might be squatting here for the night,” Baekhyun breathes through his nose, the floor he’s on is empty save for the IT department’s office tucked in the very back – they only leave around 9. It’s the annual updates season.

“No luck in finding anything?” Sehun inquires. Baekhyun makes a mousy noise, halfway caught between a whine and a grunt, “it’s like? Is this family perfect? Their biggest issue is the kid not wanting to be the next business tycoon. The sister is a city-based interior designer and their mother helps out with the horticulture department around Seoul. No drinking scandals, no illicit affairs, nothing. This family gives the brady bunch a run for their money.”

“I see,” Sehun hums, “what about the step-son?”

“I don’t know, you don’t think that’s the world’s oldest cliché? The step child planning some sort of domination,” he chuckles, drawing one out of Sehun too, “but nah, the guy has an even cleaner record than Park’s real son. At least Chanyeol seems to have minor altercations in the states meanwhile this guy is clean as a whistle.”

“Ooooh, first name bases, are we?” Sehun swoons, and Baekhyun can’t be bothered to take the bait. He’s stressed. But then. “You know, how about you interview one of them?”

“What?” Baekhyun sits forward, elbows digging into the hardwood of his desk, “I’m a lowly paid fourth in command journalist. You think they’ll let me interview them?”

“Aw, don’t sell yourself short. People love you,” Sehun reminds, “but I have a friend. He’s kind of in with the inner circle you know – all the rich, and famous. I can ask him, after all, him and Park Chanyeol were high school mates if I remember correctly.”

Baekhyun lights up at the revelation, his blood thrumming, “you’d do that?” pausing he asks, suspicious, “what do you want in return, punk?”

“You think I’d only do you a favor as extortion?” Sehun fakes offense. “Okay, yeah well, if I get you this gig then you _have_ to come to my ex’s launch party. He’s modeling for some high tier brand and he invited me to rub it in my face. And I refuse to go alone.”

“How the fuck do you have all these rich friends? And a model ex? We literally live together,” he replies, aghast at the revelation and _slightly_ perturbed that his own sex _and_ love life has been abysmal since after college.

“I have higher standards than bringing him to our two-bedroom flat, but. What do you think?”

“Yeah yeah, call your friend,” Baekhyun smiles into the phone.

“So grateful you are,” Sehun snickers before the line goes silent. Baekhyun sighs and rearranges the arsenal of newspapers, magazines, and articles he’d collected. The Vogue interview still splayed open on his desk – he tucks it into his bag, no particular reason other than his piqued interest.

\--

The door to the office is grand, stained dark ebony wood, with a waiting room outside of it and a semi-circular desk towards the right of it behind which a neatly dressed secretary sits typing away at her mac. Baekhyun loosens the tie around his neck and shifts in his chair. His slacks stick to his skin due to the heat wave and his hurried walk over to the office – as all things go today was clearly not his. First, he woke up late and the button up he’d ironed had ketchup spilled on it while he scarfed down the hashbrown Sehun had fried for him and then he couldn’t hail down a taxi, so he’d had to resort to taking the city bus. Appropriate to say that many locals opt-out of the daily use of deodorant.

The waiting room isn’t empty, of course, once he arrives filled with people with briefcases and crisp suit, and evidently, he feels underdressed in his baby-blue button-up, slim tie, and dark slacks and satchel. He smiles at the older women wearing a pearl necklace before sitting next to her. Turning her nose at his attire she mumbles something vaguely similar to ‘ _kids these days_ ’ and scurries to shift away.

Frowning he lifts his arm trying to be discreet while smelling himself. A soft powder odor wafts his way mixed with sweat and the smell of a cheeseburger that the guy standing next to him was eating on the bus. He grimaces pulling open his satchel in search of a sample perfume or something that he usually carries – Sehun always steals a bunch whenever they go to the mall saying they’re mini-life savers. Grateful he pulls out a small plastic tube and uncaps it and dabs the liquid under his armpit. He probably looks _ridiculous_ trying to maneuver his hands in a way no one can tell.

His plans are foiled when the secretary calls out his name and he jumps in surprise dropping the small vial on his shoes. Fucking butterfingers.

The pretty lady behind the desk looks up, smiling and says a tad too sweetly – possibly even aware of his misfortune -, “Mr. Byun? Mr. Park will see you now.”

Baekhyun smiles back, nodding at her but before he goes to open the door, she reaches out to him, “maybe, run a hand through your hair?”

This whole experience is a career-suicide from the start, but now he’s hit rock bottom socially too as he colors at her words. He pushes back his hair that was matted across his forehead due to sweat and takes a deep breath, pulling at the handle and letting himself in. Now or never.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. Possibly a stern looking man, drawn in curtains, just absolute horror. Instead, he’s met with a…. well, for the lack of a better word _kid_.

“Uh,” Baekhyun stutters at the guy sitting cross-legged on the mahogany desk with papers strewn to the corners with the threat of falling. “I was told I’d be meeting Mr. Park?”

The guy gives him a lopsided smile, “hi! It’s me. In flesh.” He’s wearing a navy-blue hoodie with an American sports team name – baseball; _Yankees_. The whole ensemble is topped off with wine red skinny jeans and vans. He looks like he walked out of the Seoul musical festival or warped tour.

“Come on in,” he gestures towards the seat in front of the desk. That’s when Baekhyun catches a glimpse of a shiny-gold watch. Rolex. The only sign of wealth delicately wrapped around his wrist – well, aside from the fancy office and accolades on the wall to his right and the painting on his left.

Taking the seat Baekhyun pulls his satchel into his lap taking out his little notepad and pen along with the recorder he’d brought over to tape their conversation. All the while he’s getting himself settled the man is smiling at him and somehow that’s _more_ daunting than a Big bad CEO type he’d conjured in his head.

“Well, Mr. Park,” he starts once he’s jotted the date on his notepad, “I was wondering you could tell me about your future merger with the Chinese company Ritz-Carlton. You’re supposed to be overseeing the project?”

“Call me Chanyeol,” he replies.

Taken aback, Baekhyun blinks up at him, “right, Chanyeol, so the merger?”

Chanyeol leans back on the palm of his hands, the toe of his shoe right in Baekhyun’s face and he honest to god has half a mind to shove him and tell him to take this seriously, their exchange seriously, but something tells him this isn’t some trial&error test for him but just how Park Chanyeol deals with things.

“Technically, I was just briefed on the project less than a month ago. I graduated in May? It’s only July and with my father’s deteriorating health they needed someone to fill in the shoes. So, you know I was the expected choice.”

Baekhyun notes the choice of words, and prods, “expected? You don’t think you’re deserving of the position.”

Chanyeol shrugs, “I think I should have to work my way in just like any other employee. Making me someone’s son doesn’t exactly say resume-worthy accomplishment, yknow?”

“But you’re a Harvard business graduate?” Baekhyun sets his pen down, “aren’t you basically groomed to take the place?”

Chanyeol hums, “Mr. Byun, are you the journalist who’ll publish this story?”

Stupefied, Baekhyun says, “excuse me?”

“I mean is there someone else above you? Who’d approve of this? Check your work? See if it’s worth the column in the newspaper or segment on the news?” the air in the room isn’t uncomfortable just still. The light pouring in from the large windows cast a shadow over the carpeted floor, and the air conditioning cools Baekhyun’s skin.

“Well, yeah. I’m a third-tier journalist and everything I submit has to be voted on by the upper management. Sometimes it gets vetoed other times my story ends up on the special segments run on Sundays,” Baekhyun finds himself mimicking Chanyeol’s casual shrug, “Life goes on. I try harder next time.”

Chanyeol lips pull into a smile one that reaches his eyes, and Baekhyun wonders how the clichés of all rich folks having jaded eyes failed him right now, “that’s good. I would like to do the same but someone else decided for me I get to be on top.”

“So, it scares you?” he wonders out loud, “the responsibility?”

“Hrm, yeah?” Chanyeol ponders picking at the chipped wood of the otherwise perfectly polished desk. It’s at the edge where the crack splinters into a small cracked surface. “I’m only 24. There is a lot I can fuck up.”

Baekhyun glances over at the pictures hung on the wall and picks out the step-brother, Sehun’s words ringing in his head, “is Mr. Lau just as active in board decisions?”

“Is that why you’re here?” Chanyeol draws his attention back to him, “Is dirt you’re looking for Mr. Byun?”

Baekhyun mouth fishes for words but Chanyeol beats him to it, “I know how you lot work. You’re charming, and deft with your skills, but just as easily you’re willing to stab someone –”

“With all due respect, Mr. Park your company owns a majority share of the city’s booming infrastructure not to mention you’re responsible for uprooting a cultural fixture in Insadong so it _is_ our duty as the voice of the public to let them know what exactly your company plans on doing?”

“You’re opposing gentrification?”

“I’m opposing unemployment of thousands which doesn’t exactly come into your budget plan. Not to mention I understand your father has cordial relations with an upcoming candidate for the mayor of Seoul position?” Baekhyun isn’t all knives, but he’s good. He’s good at wrestling information out when he needs to. Basically, a lot of bullshit and faux confident.

Chanyeol smiles before standing up and proffering his hand. “It was nice meeting you Mr. Byun but I think you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

“That’s it?” Baekhyun gets up, the pencil rolling off his lap onto the floor with no sound. “You don’t have a statement to make about your alleged extortion of the city’s resources for capitalistic gains? Or how it’s been rumored that your brother is procuring all the surplus capital through underhanded techniques?”

Breathing in a deep sigh, Chanyeol says, “I can show you the door if you’d like.”

“Thanks, but I can figure my way out,” Baekhyun gathers his belongings and reaches the door his eyes glancing over the cherry red Gibson from the _vogue 2013_ issue, “why not pursue music if this is too much responsibility?”

He doesn’t expect an answer. He’s already clutched the handle and pulling when he hears.

“Family is more important than flitting passions, Mr. Byun.”

\--

Soju is the sad man’s liquor of choice. It isn’t glitzy like champagne bubbles nor is it as diluted as the stale beer foreigners consume. At least that’s what his father used to say until he drank himself under the table and soon into the grave. Good man. Horrible drunk. Baekhyun hasn’t thought of him in 8 years, maybe more.

The green sticker on the bottle peels under his prodding thumbnail as he squints at the television. Some old variety show is re-running and he can’t even figure what game they’re playing when Sehun comes to sit beside him. Plucking the bottle out of his hand he takes a swig, “take it the interview went to shit?”

“The asshole thinks he’s doing something righteous act filling in his dad’s shoes,” Baekhyun squawks. “He had the audacity to tell me that I’m a swindler? A backstabber? He doesn’t even know me!” He finishes with a fist to the table and then proceeds to place his chin on the cool surface, “man, Sehun. I think they’re hiding something.”

“Because he thought your annoying assumptions were invalid?” Sehun banters.

“You’re supposed to be on _my_ side,” Baekhyun jeers drunkenly and pokes at his friends’ chest. He splays out his legs until he’s slithered his foot under Sehun’s thigh and his other leg is thrown over his legs as he leans his head on his shoulder. The position is most comfortable for him with the way his body is bent into Sehun’s side. “I think I hurt his feelings.”

Sehun snorts, “that’s awfully presumptuous of you to think.”

He’s halfway to slumber when Sehun draws him in at the waist, kissing the crown of his head, “better not have forgotten about ex’s party tomorrow.”

Baekhyun gurgles out unintelligible noises before drooling on his best friend’s hoodie.

\--

“I am fucking tired of wearing suits,” Baekhyun whines before fixing his go-to charcoal black tie, “why didn’t you tell me it was a black-tie event I wouldn’t have agreed for the disaster of an interview.”

Sehun looks up from where he’s tying the laces to his shoes, “it’s a fragrance launch Baekhyun. Of course, it’s formal. Don’t be a pain I’ll get you kimbap on the way back we all know you won’t eat anything there.”

“Not my fault fancy people food is shit,” Baekhyun clicks his tongue before moving towards the horizontal mirror and admiring himself. “You think I can bag one of those rich men or women?”

Sehun doesn’t even miss a beat before saying, “with your looks? Yeah. Personality? I’ll try again in ten years.”

They enter the venue after a much-expected wardrobe malfunction due to their little spat. Baekhyun deliberately poured juice on Sehun’s blazer and in return, Sehun snipped his favorite – read _only_ – tie. They made up on the way over. They always do.

The party is brimming by the time they step in and Sehun hooks his arm around Baekhyun’s leaning down to whisper, “now remember you’re my date until Jongin notices and burns with a fiery passion. After that, you’re welcome to make a mess of your innocence.”

Baekhyun pinches his wrist, “I’m celibate by choice, not a fuckin’ virgin.”

Turns out Jongin is the dreamy alluring model of everyone’s wet dream with his polished accent and his tall stature and broad shoulders. Not to mention he laughs ever so softly and smiles so sweetly that Baekhyun wonders maybe he should play both teams and ditch Sehun for his hot ex.

If his morals were any looser he would’ve he reminds himself. (He wouldn’t he’d sell Sehun for a corn chip but maybe also take a bullet for him).

The night drags on with dull EDM music and dimmer lights by the time the stage is spotlighted for the project heads to say their speeches, thanks and inaugurate the new scent. Baekhyun’s eyes flit over to the prettily decorated ice sculpture that’s luminous with a shade of pink and red with the perfume bottles cradled in a pocket made into it. He trudges over to smell it, spritzing a bit on the inside of his wrist.

The fragrance is breezy reminding him of the ocean, the coasts of Busan, and the beginning of summer. He hasn’t had a vacation in years, the last one being spring break, the second year of college – this was before they all had to buckle down and take school seriously –, which was just him, Sehun and Jongdae packing away essentials and road tripping to the coast for two nights. They were broke, but it was fun.

Smiling at the memory he places the bottle back when someone clears their throat behind him, “didn’t really expect to see you here Mr. Byun.”

The taunting tone to his words is still there and before Baekhyun give his own curt reply he’s met with a Chanyeol dressed to nine’s, “didn’t think you can take off the rags to show off the riches.” He gestures at the suit he’s wearing.

“I like being comfortable doesn’t mean I’m ill-mannered,” Chanyeol reaches past him to grab the same bottle he’d been whiffing and sprays some on the cuff of his blazer, “besides it’s a black-tie event.”

“So, I’ve been told,” Baekhyun replies patience running thin as he moves to leave, but.

“Listen,” Chanyeol’s hand comes to grab his elbow, “I wanted to apologize for the other day. I was out of line for making assumptions and your concerns aren’t trivial. They’re valid.”

Baekhyun bristles at the confession completely out of depth because if anything he’d been the one running his mouth. He’s still a hard shell to crack, but he stays in place, waiting for the man to continue, “I’m just close to my family and any sort of negative implication isn’t exactly nice to hear.”

“I’m only here to report the truth, Mr. Park, I have no prerogative of soliciting information out of you for personal gains,” it’s a lie, he winces inwardly since he _is_ banking on a promotion which undoubtedly hinges on the success of this story. But a little white lie hurt no one. After all, he has nothing personal against the parks just.

“Fair enough,” Chanyeol recedes his hand. He smiles again, the same childish grin that reaches his eyes, “we got off on the wrong foot.”

“I am still in the business of finding out about your company’s venture and the illicit rumors,” Baekhyun states. “I hope you know.”

“I understand,” he nods before taking his leave.

\--

They don’t exactly mend their little squabble. Baekhyun keeps trying to gather intel and Chanyeol keeps getting in his way going as far charming his way into Baekhyun’s office. And into Jongdae and Kyungsoo’s good books. He’s fucking insufferable which makes Sehun look like a saint.

“Don’t you have to be at work?” Baekhyun groans looking up from typing a cat-update on his computer that Kyungsoo assigned to him after the lack of anything substantial on the Parks’.

“Nope,” Chanyeol replies emphasizing on the ‘p’. He’s sitting on his desk with legs too long yet still doing his very best to make them dangle as he talks. “I’m here to see you and your lovely workmates. Did you know Jongdae is holding a league marathon on the 20th? He invited me! You should come too.”

Baekhyun pauses, putting on his best-affronted face, “firstly, get the fuck off my desk. Secondly, Jongdae is _my_ best friend and we’ve been hosting league tournaments since the first year of uni. Thirdly, get the hell out?”

“Baekhyun,” Yunho passes by giving him a set glare, “language.”

“There is a fucking dude who doesn’t work here sitting on my desk and –” he stops mid-sentence since Yunho is already out of earshot. Exasperated he gets up and offers Chanyeol his hand which he easily takes sliding his palm into his. Baekhyun doesn’t dwell on the easiness of the touch.

“I’m kicking you out, get up,” he drags him down the hallway towards the elevator door and presses the down button. Turning around he finds Chanyeol grinning, “leave?”

“Cute,” Chanyeol mumbles. Baekhyun kicks at his shin willing the heat creeping to his cheeks away and Chanyeol squeals in pain limping back and furrowing his eyebrows, “vicious!”

“Get out!” Baekhyun tosses back and readies to stomp back to his desk when Chanyeol pulls him by the elbow and trails down his hand to slot their fingers together. Right, that’s the new development. Somehow Chanyeol hasn’t only invaded into his friend group and professional life – courtesy of one Oh Sehun – but he’s also managed to find ways to cling to Baekhyun in more ways than necessary.

“Baekhyunie, you’ll come, right? To the gaming party?” his eyes are so huge and earnest, but Baekhyun needs to remember this is the same fraudulent, possibly interim, CEO who’s behind everything he staunchly despises.

But. He’s so _terribly_ cute. Plus, the new nickname is impossibly sweet.

“My _best friends’_ party,” he reminds. “Of course, I will.”

Baekhyun’s research hasn’t been all futile, in fact, he’s had some success especially when he started looking at the past collaborators and clients the company has worked with a particular restaurant stood out. Apparently, the owner refused to sell his property in exchange for a ridiculous amount of money. It’s near the poorer part of Seoul where small business owners have made a living out of their own hard work.

The owner seemed to have run into an altercation of sorts with Henry Lau when he’d proposed the buyout. The man stood his ground and didn’t budge, however, his bravery although applaud-worthy was eventually detrimental to his business forcing him into foreclosure. That’s where it gets murky. How can a reputable business that’s a prime spot for the locals to dine close down over the span of few weeks? Coincidentally right after the owner had managed to piss off a very powerful man. Baekhyun dug deeper and found the man’s contact, scheduling a meeting. Which is in fact today.

Baekhyun files away the documents he’d come across and the articles written at the time into a folder and slips it into his satchel. He wrings it over his shoulders and grabs his phone before shouting a _goodbye_ to Sehun on his way out.

It’s nearing the end of July and the heat won’t let up. The sun shines bright making him sweat under its harsh glare, his thin cotton tee sticking to his skin like a second layer.

He’s standing at the bus-stop because it’s a cheaper commute than opting for a cab when a car drives up next to him, the windows gliding down.

Lo and behold, Chanyeol was sat behind the driver’s wheel with sunglasses resting on his nose, and a grin in place. Before he can get a word out Baekhyun says pointing at his eyewear, “those are used to block the sun. Not to sit inside your perfectly comfortable Audi.”

“It’s the matter of the principle, Byun” he bargains, but Baekhyun just snorts in annoyance. He doesn’t know what bothers him more that the kid is two whole years younger and has accomplished more than he ever will or the fact he’s effectively smug about it.

“Just makes you look like an ass in my humble opinion,” he drawls out peering over his shoulder to see the small crowd gathering at the stop. Some inquisitive ears interested in their conversation. Turning back, he finds Chanyeol drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. His fingers are long, but thick not thin like his own. He wonders if it’s easier to tamp down guitar string, he’s been held by the wrist or elbow enough times to remember their callousness.

“I can give you a ride to wherever you’re off to,” Chanyeol offers, glasses now perched on his head. A shiver runs down Baekhyun’s spine at the gesture and he’s suddenly doubly alert at the precariousness of the situation. Putting on his best saccharine smiles he says, “no thanks. I’ll take the bus.”

“Come on, Baek, I can drop you off at home. I know where you and Sehun live,” he reasons but it falls deaf on Baekhyun’s ears. This entire time he’s well aware of how he can jeopardize his entire hard work by making one simple mistake. He’s not willing for it to be Park Chanyeol sweet, charming coercion.

Grinding the heels of his shoes into the asphalt he says through gritted teeth, “I said, no, didn’t I?”

A semblance of hurt flashes across Chanyeol’s face. It reminds him of the way his mom looks when he facetimes saying he won’t be home for Christmas for yet another year, or when Sehun talks about his family dog and how he misses him _terribly_ or – well, you get the point. There is something genuine to it, but Chanyeol doesn’t elaborate just ducks his head pulling his lips into a tight line, “right. Very well. Safe travels.”

Baekhyun doesn’t bother reciprocating the kindness.

He’s a bit of an ass, Sehun’s words ring in his head, but. _But_.

The restaurant owner, Jeongsu, lives on the edge of the town. He dabbles between two jobs since the closing of his restaurant; one as a construction laborer for a small construction company and the other as a clerk at the post office. The man can’t be that old maybe 10 to 15 years older than Baekhyun himself, but he isn’t _as_ young so imagining his greying self lugging around brick and logs isn’t a pretty image.

They sit down at a café store. Apparently, the owner is good friends with Jeongsu seeing the way he lights up behind the pastry counter and waves a hello. Promising an order of his regular he gestures towards Baekhyun to get something for himself. He orders a mocha latter with caramel syrup and whipped cream. He’s not big on coffee it’s too bitter.

Jeongsu talks with slacked shoulder, crows feet stretching from his eyes, his skin pale and slightly burnt due to the searing heat, “we, my wife and I, had it good. We were pretty young when we saved up enough cash to rent out the land from the previous landlord and set up the store. It started out as kimbap just rice and seaweed. Business took off cause the store was near a school district so in the morning it was kids and at night the store was on the way home of many commuting locals.”

He pauses, thumb rubbing the lip of his coffee, “you don’t think about it, y’know? When old man Kim passed away and left us his land we thought we can expand and we did, it was good. We sent our kids to good school. Bought a car for my wife.” His voice is tinged with nostalgia, but mostly sadness. Not the regret kind but instead bone-tired, weary. Baekhyun can tell cause his father sounded similar to this before –

“Mr. Lau, he seized your property?” Baekhyun tries to be gentle. He’s not trying to unsheathe old wounds, but words are always callous fleeting out from the tip of your tongue. Jeongsu still has the spirit to smile, “it wasn’t even a question. He said it’s an illegal use of property since we weren’t exactly written into the property right. Something about a dying man’s sentiment being as useless as a spoken word promise.”

Baekhyun’s blood boils as he pinches the inside of his thigh to keep himself calm, “they took the property cause? What? Didn’t you have legal proof? According to the law, the deceased last said wishes are taken as his will.”

“Yeah, but my wife and I were the only one’s there when he said so. His son knew but he’s abroad and we couldn’t bother –“

“So, what? The acquisition took place? That’s fucked that’s _your_ property Mr. Jeongsu.” The café is empty he realizes, the soft hum of the coffee machine matching his loud breathing, “my wife passed away in January. There was so much stress and it was getting harder and harder to make ends meet. I didn’t even realize she was sick. She was good at that. At hiding the hurt.”

“I’m so so sorry,” Baekhyun sobers at the confession. The owner of the little shop has trodden over to them now, his hands squeezing the old man’s shoulder, encouraging him to say, “the land. They wanted to build a small apartment complex as an extension of their business. But.”

“But?” Baekhyun prompts.

The man’s eyebrows furrow as he replies, confused, “the plot has been emptied for months. Close to a year. The old restaurant still stands but it’s grungy I don’t understand. Mr. Lau even visits it frequently the paperboy told me.”

Huh.

“Shouldn’t they have already started construction, Mr. Byun?” Jeongsu asks.

\--

Sehun’s watching TV when he struts in throwing his bag on the sofa and bee-lines towards the fridge, pulling it open and grabbing a beer for himself.

“How’d it go?” Baekhyun rounds the little island-counter in their kitchen towards their tan-brown couch to find Sehun leaning against, legs sprawled out. But he’s not alone. Jongin’s head is in his lap, eyes shut as he snoozes away.

Somewhat irked he doesn’t bother answering the question, instead asks one of his own, “you guys are back together?”

Sehun shrugs, careful not to jostle the boy in his lap, “we’re working out the kinks.” His fingers amble over to Jongin’s hair, carding through them, “he’s good to me.”

“He didn’t think so when he forgot to tell his friends about you,” his words come out bitter than just cautionary. Sehun takes note of it because when has he ever missed even the feeblest change in Baekhyun’s tone, “Hyung, it’s more complicated than that. Our professions see us as opposites.”

Baekhyun scoffs taking a swig of his drink, “aren’t you being assigned to the fashion week coverage?”

“What are you implying?” Sehun sits up straighter, “you think he’s using me to get some exposure on TV. Come on, Baekhyun.”

“All I’m saying is to be smarter, Sehun.”

It’s uncalled for. The whole conversation, Baekhyun’s attitude, but he’s pissed, and there is a rich kid is in his living room cuddled up to his best friend in their shitty two-bedroom apartment and he can’t even escape these high-profile socialites even in the comfort of his own home.

“Go to bed, hyung, you’re tired.” And that’s that.

\--

The next time he sees Chanyeol it’s after a whole month. It’s the end of August so the weather has calmed down a bit, the breeze picking up due to monsoon rains has made it muggier and damp. Every morning he wakes up to cool sheets and lazy bones because all he wants to do is curl up in his blanket and sleep or watch TV. Work is the last thing on his mind. Which is why he’d hit snooze on his alarm twice today missing it and ending up running late.

He’s sprinting down the streets towards the bus stop, satchel swung across his body, with his hands trying to knot his tie when he runs into someone. He falls back on his ass as a sputter of apologies are thrown his way before a gentle, “Baekhyun?”

He gazes up to find Chanyeol hovering over him with an outstretched hand and a very confused expression, “you okay?”

Taking the hand Baekhyun stands up, dusting his slacks, and says, “probably bruised my tailbone. But that’ll have to wait I am running late.”

He goes to hurry when Chanyeol reaches out, his fingers grazing his elbows before he draws his hand back in. The gesture makes something tighten in Baekhyun’s chest as if it’s his fault. His rejection made Chanyeol stop coming to the office. To miss game night. For dodging Jongdae’s calls. But all he did was reject a ride. It’s not that big of a deal yet the look on Chanyeol’s face from the day is fresh in his mind.

“I was going to offer to drive,” he mumbles mostly to himself, “but I should let you be. It was nice seeing you.” He does the same tight smile and Baekhyun is already regretting the words slipping out of his mouth, “or you can! I’m terribly late and the bus is still not here, so?”

Baekhyun swears Chanyeol lights up like a freaking Christmas tree, “yeah? My car’s just there.”

Once inside Baekhyun realizes how profusely he’s sweating. He truly has developed a condition or something cause he’s always fucking drenched. Or maybe it’s just when Chanyeol is around. Wait. _Wait_.

“You can open the window,” he mumbles, heat rising to his cheeks, “I probably don’t smell too good from all the running.”

Chanyeol lets out a loud guffaw, his large hand going to slap his own knee, and Baekhyun might be tad bit terrified, “you’re ridiculous. You smell fine.”

“Last time I ran to work Sehun asked me if I bathed in dog feces,” Baekhyun winces at the embarrassing memory and then _further_ blushes at having to share said memory. Why can’t he just ever be quiet?

They’re coming to a red light when Chanyeol assures, “you smell fine.” He’s looking at him with big sincere eyes and Baekhyun doesn’t have the heart to look away. But then something shifts, a switch of sorts, with the way color rises to Chanyeol’s cheeks as he says, “I like how you smell.”

Clearing his throat, he glances away, probably due to Baekhyun’s eyes widening twice their size, and steps on the accelerator as the signal turns green. Baekhyun doesn’t really get to dwell on their interaction much before they’re pulling outside of the KBS building. He undoes his seatbelt scurrying to open the door, “thanks man you’re a lifesaver.”

He’s ready to step out when Chanyeol calls out to him, “Baekhyun.” He turns to see the boy biting his lip and pointing out, “your tie.”

“Huh?” Baekhyun looks down at the undone knot and groans, “Sehun does mine all the time but he left early how –“

“Let me,” Chanyeol offers to which Baekhyun nods dumbly.

Reaching over the divider between their seats Chanyeol grips at the ends of the material and crosses the wide end over the narrow end. Then he folds the wide end underneath the narrow one and once he loops it he takes the wide end through the knot in the front.

Baekhyun watches his deft fingers folding the tie, eyebrows wrinkled in concentration, his bottom lip bit under his teeth. He traces the faint moles littered across his face, the one on his nose, the one’s on his cheek, he notices the size of his ears, the bridge of his nose, the plush of his lower lip. Baekhyun stares and stares and stares some more. It couldn’t have been more than a minute or two, but it feels like ages before Chanyeol is pulling on his collars as the tie sits on his breastbone snuggly.

“Thanks,” he breathes out with barely any distance between them. Chanyeol’s cheeks pink up. “Any time.”

Once he’s behind closed elevator doors he sobers up, his phone buzzes from a text, it’s from Seunghoon, an old friend, which reads _found what goes on in the old restaurant._

Baekhyun’s blood freezes, any positive inkling he had towards the Park’s going down the drain as he reads.

_Drug cartel_

\--

“Baekhyun you know how big of an accusation this is?” Jongdae reasons. “You’re blaming a very respectable company of drug trafficking when their record has been spotless so far.”

Rolling his eyes Baekhyun passes all the gathered data over the past few weeks, “here are the numbers. And investments the Park’s corporations have made in the past few years. Do you see those deleted figures? Those are acquisitions of unrecorded properties that are most definitely bought from company capital but aren’t being used to finance the company itself.”

“Ok, so they bought empty plots? So, what?” Sehun says flitting through the file – they made up the day after their little spat not one’s to stay mad, but there has been a slight edge to their conversations -, “Baek, are you sure this isn’t just to satisfy some propaganda against the rich cause falsification of news can –”

“You think I am lying,” Baekhyun bristles. He lets out a hollow laugh, “wonderful. Kyungsoo said he’ll boot me off the case if I don’t have anything by Christmas and now that I _do_ it’s not substantial enough.”

“We’re just saying that someone might be trying to falsify the evidence to give the Park’s a bad name,” Jongdae tries. So, naturally, Baekhyun pulls out the bank statements he was able to procure through some of his _own_ underhanded measures, “Henry Lau is paying for all of this.”

“How’d you get this?” Sehun stares, appalled.

“From my office,” another voice chimes in, echoing in the conference room. Chanyeol’s stalks towards them shoulder pulled tight and eyes ablaze. Baekhyun can’t tell if he’s more upset or mad, but. “You swindled our accounts manager to let you have confidential information you realize what this means right? This is a huge breach of privacy.”

“Your brother is running a fucking drug cartel,” Baekhyun growls, “you people have literally ruined lives and you’re worried I stole some numbers? You lot provide those numbers to the IRS and public anyway at the end of the year!”

“You’re joking, right? You can’t be this delusional. Why can’t you leave my brother out of all this,” Chanyeol rebuttals, “you’ve been against us since day one.”

Sehun interrupts before Baekhyun can tear Chanyeol a new one, “ok, okay, technically speaking Baekhyun didn’t do anything illegal. Prospect buyers are allowed to request information every quarter so.”

Chanyeol turns to Sehun, perturbed at his claim, “it’s about the principle Sehun this man is snooping around where he _isn’t_ needed. I thought we were friends. Friends don’t do this.”

“I’m not your friend,” Baekhyun replies firmly. The room has drawn silent now with the way Chanyeol’s face crumbles in befuddlement and hurt, Baekhyun charges on, “I am not your friend. I am a reporter. It’s my job to let people know the truth.” His bearing in regard to his own emotions must be lost because he can feel a pang of pain grow in his chest.

“Right,” Chanyeol sighs, “you have no concrete proof of any this.”

“Your brother is meeting up with the Chinese drug syndicate in a month. If you think I’m lying I can bring proof from there myself. I’ll record –”

“No need,” Chanyeol stops him. “I’ll come with you myself.”

**present day. a week before christmas.**

Baekhyun drags his body up the stairs of his apartment complex, Chanyeol right behind him with a steel grip on his jacket. They rode over in silence the droning noise of the Vespa’s engine inundating any other sound or chance at conversation. Baekhyun had bought the little thing from a second-hand store because he had enough late clock-ins that he just couldn’t rely on the bus anymore. Sehun had loved it asking for a ride but the novelty wore off after a month and he resorted to taking the cab to work – other days when Jongin would sleep over he’d let himself be driven.

When they reach the door Baekhyun fishes out his key from the pocket of his jacket; unlocking and going in. The lights are turned off, so he flips them on as Chanyeol shuffles behind finally letting go as they both chuck off their shoes. The apartment is quiet meaning Sehun is still out. Heaving a deep sigh, he treks over to the sofa, flopping down and closing his eyes, the scenes from the day vividly pressed against his eyelids.

Fluttering his eyes open he realizes Chanyeol is standing in the doorway looking terribly uncomfortable, “did you want to shower?”

“What?” he replies, subdued and teary-eyed. His cheeks are puffed pink, and his eyes are red, hair matted to his forehead. He kind of looks similar to when Baekhyun first saw him. So boyish, so young. His heart clenches at the sight.

Getting up he goes to stand in front of him, reaching to hold his wrist, “come on, let’s get you freshened up and then we can take a nap. I’ll order takeout for later, yeah?”

“You don’t have to do this,” Chanyeol murmurs while Baekhyun piles on a fresh pair of boxers, t-shirt and towel into his arms. Once he’s sorted him out he turns to face Chanyeol, suppressing his urge to grimace at the boy’s shaken stature, “you shouldn’t have had to see that. I’m sorry so _so_ sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he replies walking over to the bathroom door. “I’ll be done soon.”

Baekhyun hums in acknowledgment trudging towards his mattress – it’s an excuse for a bed. When they first moved in he couldn’t afford a frame, so he’d just bought a mattress and made do with the comforters and blankets his mother had sent from home. He squishes his face into the pillow, eyes heavy drifting him to sleep.

The next time he wakes up his cheek is still smashed into the cotton of the pillow, but his back is pressed against another person, he can tell by the arm encircling his waist. Carefully, he turns over and finds Chanyeol wrapped around him. His movement lets Chanyeol adjust, shimmying down a little so his nose can now be pressed into Baekhyun’s collarbone, hot puffs of breath on his exposed skin where his shirt is unbuttoned.

“Chanyeol-ah,” Baekhyun drawls, half-asleep it’s easier to let his guard down. “you’re okay, right?”

The younger boy shuffles closer until their legs are tangled and Baekhyun’s chin is resting on the crown of Chanyeol’s head.

“He died, Baek. He got shot. We couldn’t do anything.”

 _We weren’t supposed to_ , he wants to say. “I know,” he circles an arm around Chanyeol’s waist. “I’m sorry.”

“What now?” Chanyeol whispers, “does Henry go to jail?”

Baekhyun runs his hand up and down Chanyeol’s spine, counting each bone like a building block under the tip of his fingers, he breathes through his nose, saying, “let’s sleep for now. We have tomorrow or the day after. No need to hurry.”

“Thank you,” it’s soft, almost unheard.

\--

The sunlight pours in slanted streaks across the crème walls bouncing off his closet door, dressers, and lining Chanyeol’s skin. He glows under the attention, his cheeks sprouting their healthy flush, his lips parted in sleep. Baekhyun cards his fingers through his still slightly damp hair - they must’ve not slept long – and smiles to himself. It’s just the break of dawn, a hue of orange and yellow filling his room, yet he feels so rested. His best sleep in ages, maybe even years.

“I shouldn’t have taken you to the site,” he says under his breath, careful not to be loud. He goes to shift away, turning his back, to get himself a glass a water since he’s parched but as soon as he moves Chanyeol arches closer, jostling awake.

He wraps an arm around Baekhyun’s waist hiding his face at the nape of his neck, his breath misty as he draws out a rough, “good morning.”

Baekhyun stills in motion and sighs into the embrace, “mornin’.”

The underlying current of emotions in his veins bloom into something akin to heat licking away at every inch of skin, he’s woken up to Sehun several times – at times even Jongdae – but never has there been this warm, comfort, that envelops around his chest. It isn’t just comfort though it’s a present ache, he remembers the events from yesterday and chalks up his behavior to the fragility of the situation. His mind buzzing at a mile per second when Chanyeol speaks up again, “you didn’t lie.”

Blinking blearily at the stream of light peeking thru the blinds Baekhyun grimaces, “of course, I didn’t. I don’t lie. I know you think me getting to those reports were underhanded and conniving but –”

“Baek, _I’m_ sorry,” Chanyeol interrupts. “I should’ve trusted you.”

Conversation is sparse as Baekhyun lays there, thirst forgotten, and soon the room is filled with soft snores. There is still the report to write for this one-off incident and it must be all over the station about the dead body. He wonders how this will play out for Henry seeing as he’s not only been swindling the Chinese syndicate but has been using company capital to further his underhanded business – the investors will not be pleased.

It’s around 10 o’clock when Baekhyun wakes up next, he paws at the comforter wrapped around him and splays out his arms on his bed; his side now empty. He turns around to find Chanyeol nowhere in sight just a pair of boxers and t-shirt neatly folded and placed at the foot of his bed. Running a hand through his hair he turns over to reach for his phone.

The screen lights up to (3) missed calls from Jongdae, one voicemail from Sehun, an email from Kyungsoo and one text. A singular text from Chanyeol.

 _Thank u._ it reads.

Baekhyun slips out of his t-shirt and pulls on a sweatshirt, grabbing his duffle bag he stuffs it with his nicely pressed button-down, deodorant, and tie. He invested in a clip-on one, so he doesn’t have to worry about tying the knot every time he’s running late especially seeing as Sehun is _never_ home and well. Somethings just aren’t great done on your own.

Once he’s squeezed into his boat shoes, grabbed his charger and headphones, he walks out of the door.

The office is bustling by the time he arrives, one of the new interns – Taeyong, he remembers his name – tells him he’s being asked for in the cap’s office. Downing the last of his raspberry juice he struts into the glass-doored room, not bothering to knock as he was being waited upon. His sleeves are rolled up and there is a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and with shaky hands, he turns the knob.

“So, what do you have Byun?” Kyungsoo is already asking.

Baekhyun gets to stand in front of the bright blinding camera lights outside the warehouse where the body had been found, reporting the incident from memory and evidence he’d gathered, there are other reporters, but he has inside source and he’s been working on this case for months. The reports obviously bud speculation and the office is buzzing once they return and the public is chalking it up to sensationalism whereas the stock market is having a ride. The Parks being in coalition with major companies gives them a key spot in the capitalistic market of South Korea.

The day passes by in a blur and before he knows it he’s walking out of the KBS building, his first report summary in hand as he grins.

“So, this is your big break they’ll be making you work the entire story?” Jongdae muses, he pulls out a cigarette pack and offers Baekhyun which he turns down. Shrugging Baekhyun replies, “it _is_ my story.”

“Humble, are we?” he jests, elbowing him in the side. “You deserve it man it’s been years.”

They part ways at the entrance because Jongdae lives on the opposite of town, a nicer area with an apartment complex with an actual security system and buzzer that lets Baekhyun in instead of a faulty lock Sehun and him have jammed strategically with some duct tape and glue.

It's when he turns the opposite direction that he sees him dressed head to toe in dark wash colors, hands tucked in the pockets of his coat, as he looks up with a shy smile in place. Baekhyun can feel the way his chest tightens, and his heart does that extra mile -- beating furiously in its constraints. he figures Chanyeol's here for goodbyes or to blame Baekhyun for the smear his family's name has faced.

"It's still cold out." The deep-timbre shakes him out of his thoughts. He nods hurriedly, adding a quick, "winter might be longer this year." It's only January he can't possibly know that, but the tips of his fingers are already cold and his nose probably ruddy red. He's just attempting to converse, to ease the tension fizzing between the two.

"I just," Chanyeol stops mid-sentence bringing a hand to the back of his head, scratching at the nape of his neck, "wanted to say thanks? you helped us out a bunch."

There is an apology is at the tip of his tongue. If the situation were reversed he’d be upset that a friend (or whatever this little **t** ête-à-tête is between them) did something to harm his family reputation, but somehow, it’s bigger than that. He just wishes it wasn’t at Chanyeol’s expense.

Albeit confused Baekhyun nods to encourage him to continue, "our partners are pissed, rightfully so, but they're also understanding that it was all Henry's doing. My dad wasn't a complicit party."

"And you?" a chilly draft whisks under the folds of his jacket sending a shiver down his spine, and under the dappling light of the street-lamps, Chanyeol looks younger. Or maybe he just finally looks his age. All soft around the cheeks, large curious eyes that glimmer, and Baekhyun has been running on three cups of coffee and one granola bar so his mind is automatically supplying metaphors and grand emotions instead of anything rational.

Chanyeol shrugs, "I was an interim CEO for barely six months. They can't even be bothered in thinking of me as anything other than a rich brat who got handed the reigns too soon."

Those sound distinctly familiar to his own words Baekhyun remembers which unknowingly makes him frown, "you're not a brat. A far cry from the spoiled image I had cooked up, to be honest."

Then he does it. Like all those times before. He smiles, one that reaches his eyes, and shows his perfectly pearly-white teeth, "I’m relieved."

Sehun always tells Baekhyun he’s made up of missed opportunities – applying too late for the merit scholarship at his uni, forgoing the all-expense paid internship in Japan, the chance to settle down with his _ex_ – so he tries to do something out of the ordinary, out of his comfort, “it matters?” he says it vaguely and Chanyeol’s brow ruffle together confused.

“It matters what I think about you…?”

The words end in a whisper, his own voice small to his ears, but somehow Chanyeol still picks up on them. He moves forward with hands still pressed into the pocket of his coat, his chocolate brown hair sweep across his forehead and Baekhyun _knows_ it’s soft to touch. This morning he woke up to a tuft of it tickling under his chin. His fingers itch to run through it.

“You sweat,” Chanyeol says. It catches him off-guard, slightly affronted, as he pouts at the statement, but the man continues, “like a lot. When you first came to my office your shirt had pit stains.”

“I had _missed_ the cab and was running –”

“You talk with your mouth full. It’s quite gross, honestly,” Chanyeol chuckles as if he has the sight perfectly pictured in his head. “You’re also impatient. Need to feel some kind of control of the situation.”

It’s then Baekhyun notices with each habit Chanyeol walks closer to him, the sparse distance between them decreasing with each step, his heart thunders under the weight of his ribs, his palms tingle.

“You’re argumentative, need the last word in, but you’re also willing to listen. You’re kind. You worry, and you care maybe to a fault,” Chanyeol ponders and with the last step that leaves barely any gap between them, that makes the exhale of their breathes mingle, “you said we aren’t friends Baek. You’re right, cause you make me crazy.”

Baekhyun licks his lips, “Sehun says I am terribly dense. I don’t see when people are so clearly in my corner.”

He reaches out his hand waiting for Chanyeol to pick up on what he’s doing. Thankfully Chanyeol brings his own gloved fingers to Baekhyun’s bare one’s, the tips of their fingers skimming, it’s like tiny sparks which remind Baekhyun of the beach. Of summer night. He absentmindedly allows himself to wonder if Chanyeol would go to the beach.

“I can’t tie my tie,” Baekhyun chuckles, their fingers intertwine and their palms slot like puzzle pieces, “you should help me.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol agrees. When he glances up Baekhyun sees tenderness present in his warm eyes. Sehun says he doesn’t take a chance. So, he does just that. He _takes_ it.

The vehicles whizzing by them fall deaf to his ears, his heart so loud it plays like one of those bass systems installed in Jongdae’s car, and the surroundings just recede into nothing. Their lips meet in light touch at first, shyness mingled with awkwardness, but then Baekhyun is reaching up to slide a palm across Chanyeol’s jaw and the taste of their lips melding together is sweet.

His stomach curls in excitement and he can’t help but smile, teeth clicking together, as he laughs into Chanyeol’s mouth, “I think I have a thing for hot _chaebol’s_.”

Chanyeol guffaws nosing his cheek while his own palm slides up holding Baekhyun’s cheek, “hopefully just one.”

“Hrm,” Baekhyun mumbles into another soft peck, “the only one.”

**five months later.**

“Always fucking black-tie events,” Baekhyun grumbles throwing out yet another button up from his closet. It’s starting to look worse for wear with how he’s expended his entire wardrobe and he has absolutely nothing to wear. And he emphasizes _nothing_.

Sehun snorts, “you weren’t this stressed when they gave you a promotion.”

Right, in the past few months there have been a couple of monumental changes the first and foremost being that Baekhyun is no longer a lackey fetching Kyungsoo’s coffee, in fact, he’s promoted to captain of his own team that deals with current events specifically focusing on the booming business in Seoul. In short, he has his own lackeys now. He tries to be less of a tyrant but word around the office is he’s possibly even worse. Preposterous.

Crossing over to his bed Sehun plucks out a powder blue shirt, and straightens it, “you should wear this. Trust me I live with a model.”

Secondly, Sehun moved out. Now he lives in the upper part of Apgujeong-dong with his well-off _model_ boyfriend. Despite Baekhyun’s little event Jongin and Sehun are solid than ever going as far as adopting a small pup together. It’s a Shih Tzu and yes, it’s a little _shit_. Always nipping at Baekhyun’s ankles when he visits.

Moving out was impromptu but it left Baekhyun with the apartment to himself and with his recent upgrade in bank-balance courtesy of no longer being an underling he’s able to afford the place just fine. To be honest, he could move out into a nicer neighborhood, but no place else has the ‘Kimichi Mart’ in a five-mile radius now does it?

Oh, right. Mrs. Lee never went out of business because instead of starting construction of the juggernaut hotel in Insadong Chanyeol’s family decided to make it into a mini-bed and breakfast that didn’t require much land and serves almost like an Airbnb for frequent travelers.

It turned out to be a huge success too seeing as the cultural market is so frequently visited by foreigners, but without the building of a huge hotel, the area was able to keep its cultural integrity intact and local vendors didn’t have to sacrifice. Even they received a boom in business. This was all Chanyeol’s doing on top of letting Jeongsu having his land back and re-starting his restaurant. As a settlement, the parks even provided the start-up capital. The whole giving back to the community fared well in the public and they’ve since been seen as pioneers of Seoul based entrepreneurs.

Baekhyun thinks the company is getting too much of the credit that rightfully belongs to his boyfriend. The last development is that he and Chanyeol have been going steady since that cold January night. Which brings him back to the problem at hand.

“Sehun, I’m attending a party filled with _elites_ and meeting his parents all in one go I can’t be looking like flounders’ distant cousin,” Baekhyun grimaces at the faint yellow lines running through the blue shirt.

“He adores you,” Sehun reasons to which Baekhyun appropriately blushes, “Why are you so nervous?”

“Cause his parents know me as the guy who got their step-son arrested for drug-trafficking!”

“And who saved their real son from death,” Sehun points to which Baekhyun retorts, “holding down his screams while a bloody murder takes place is hardly saving. I just did what anyone would have done.”

Baekhyun is rifling thru his shirts when he finds a silky red button up. It’s more of a deep burgundy and he remembers Chanyeol telling him he finds him sexy in the color.

“This,” he brandishes it like a victory. And Sehun titters, “I see we’re trying to get _lucky_ tonight.”

Baekhyun flips him off before retreating towards the bathroom.

\--

Chanyeol presses him to the door, lips latching to the sweet spot under his ear as he stamps kisses down his jaw until he meets his lips and somehow the urgency drains into sweetness, soft lips slotting together. They’re in one of the guest rooms at the hotel where the party is being held. One of the many Chanyeol’s family has rented out for the evening.

“You’re a tease, you know,” he breathes through his nose, air hitting Baekhyun’s cheeks as Chanyeol kisses his temple – right where his mole is, “you’ve completely ruined me.”

“Well don’t you go telling your parents that I want them to like me,” Baekhyun fruitlessly counters, pouting.

Chanyeol draws back, “Baek, can we please not talk about my parents while I dry hump you?”

Baekhyun only further frowns, his boyfriend isn’t taking this seriously and he should be because this is important. For the first time he’s been on the receiving end of such unadulterated affection and he wants to return it every proper way. By being grateful. He can’t do that if he’s not made sure everyone in Chanyeol’s family adores him.

Seeing him visibly put off Chanyeol nips at Baekhyun’s bottom lip, cupping his face tenderly, he mumbles between another soft press of lips, “they’ll love you they have no reason not to.”

“Actually--” he doesn’t get to finish because Chanyeol swallows his protest into another kiss. He pulls back to stare at him, eyes wide and sincere just like the first day they’d met, just like they were in that Vogue interview pictorial. “They have to because,” he pauses and Baekhyun feels the heat rising to his cheeks, the blood rushing to his ears; he sees the color on Chanyeol’s face mimicking his own state.

“Yeah?” Baekhyun timidly asks.

Chanyeol drops his head onto his shoulder shying at the declaration, “Oh, Baekhyun you have no idea.”

A splintering laughter breaks Baekhyun out of his nerves, his body shaking at the ridiculousness of all this. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. But for what’s it worth he wants to woo everyone anyway.

Bringing his hand to Chanyeol’s jaw he lifts his head up and kisses him solidly, they paw at each other bursting with a new rush of emotions and when they come up for air Chanyeol says, “well this was unexpected.”

“I think I need to be convinced though,” Baekhyun jests, raising his eyebrow mischievously and Chanyeol looks at him with the most awestruck, lovesick expression, pecking his lips before falling to his knees. Baekhyun laughs, loud and booming, “Chanyeol, _Chanyeol,_ stop I was kidding everyone must be looking for us.”

He doesn’t care though grinning from cheek to cheek as he unclasps the buckle of his belt, Baekhyun leans his head back smiling at the way Chanyeol’s eyes twinkle, “you really want to right now?”

“I have your dick in my face,” Chanyeol deadpans.

“Hey! I’m just giving you a choice you know so you don’t regret it later,” and it sounds like they aren’t talking about a quickie blowjob anymore. Chanyeol eyes him earnestly before pulling down his pants and kissing his now exposed thigh softly, “I’ve been sure awhile.”

Before Baekhyun is even able to process the rush of emotions swelling under the drum of his heart Chanyeol’s mouth is on him. And darn it he’s _wrecked_ as if it’s their first time trading quick blowies.

Chanyeol licks his underside eliciting a guttural groan out of him, and he’s teethy with how he grazes his sensitive skin – being painfully slow with his ministrations. Baekhyun holds it together to not cream himself like a horny teenager.

Chanyeol sucks and slides his mouth off him with a _soft_ pop and glances up with lips slick red, shiny, and wet. Baekhyun drags him up by the collar and kisses him deep as Chanyeol’s fingers wrap around his cock giving him a swift tug before he’s moaning into his mouth and coming into his hand. They pull apart breathing heavy as Chanyeol brings up his dirty palm and licks it.

Baekhyun flushes at the sight, “you’re something.”

“I’m yours,” Chanyeol cheekily adds, ears red.

The induction of Chanyeol taking his dad’s place as the permanent CEO goes smoothly and everyone cheers raising a glass to his newly taken position. Chanyeol gives a short speech about future endeavors and working hard beside the board to make the company not only live up to its reputation but precede it.

Baekhyun does end up making a fool of himself in front of Chanyeol’s parents but somehow his oddities and rambling are endearing to them. Yoora even pitches in the idea of whisking him away from Chanyeol until he childishly wraps an arm around Baekhyun. Baekhyun laughs at the sibling tussle, and leans back into Chanyeol whispering to him, “now that you’re a hot shot CEO I figured we’ll celebrate?”

Chanyeol grins, “oh, do you have a gift for me, Mr. Byun?”

Baekhyun guides their hands to intertwine as he turns to kiss Chanyeol, “how about I return the favor from earlier?”

Chanyeol laughs into his shoulder and Baekhyun is content. More than. He’s _happy_.


End file.
